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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22579567">I've Missed This</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheYesterdayShow/pseuds/TheYesterdayShow'>TheYesterdayShow</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides tumblr prompts! [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Feels, Coma, Deceit Sanders Angst, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Hurt Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt very little comfort, Hurt/Comfort, I Made Myself Cry, Sad, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, This hurts, Tumblr Prompt, because there is a little comfort, but not enough, like angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 11:49:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>820</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22579567</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheYesterdayShow/pseuds/TheYesterdayShow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Now they are here again, like they hadn’t been in years. Shoulders touching. Heads back lazily. The old couch sagging beneath their weight.</p>
<p>Or</p>
<p>Virgil comes back. They've both missed this.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anxiety | Virgil Sanders &amp; Deceit Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders &amp; Deceit Sanders</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides tumblr prompts! [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1624342</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>153</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I've Missed This</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>From the prompt "I've missed this" from @enragedbees over on tumblr! Feel free to send me a prompt @thetomorrowshow</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>It had been a while since they’d sat together doing nothing. At one point, doing nothing together had been everything to them, the moment of peace they got, the comfort of knowing they had each others’ backs.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Now they are here again, like they hadn’t been in years. Shoulders touching. Heads back lazily. The old couch sagging beneath their weight.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Deceit is certain Virgil had turned his music down just for him. He can still hear it, but it isn’t loud, a nice buzzing in the background of the pleasant nothingness. This was what had been missing from day-to-day life. Not these moments of comfort, but Virgil.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I’ve missed this,” Virgil murmurs, so quietly Deceit knows he wasn’t meant to hear it. He hears anyway, and smiles so widely he thinks his face might split.<br/></em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>All good things come to an end, though, so Deceit only lets his happiness bubble for a moment longer before speaking.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Are you going back tonight?”<br/></em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Virgil shifts uncomfortably. “I mean, if you don’t want me to stay the night.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Deceit is quick to reassure him. “Oh no, I–or, Remus very much wants you to stay the night.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>A snort, then Virgil nudges his shoulder slightly. “Yeah, I’ll go back tomorrow. I just … it’s different up there.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Are they hurting you?”<br/></em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>No, no, nothing like that!” Virgil insists hurriedly. “It’s just not the same.” He blushes, visible even in the dim lighting of the living room, visible even though Deceit isn’t looking at him.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Deceit lets the silence stretch awkwardly, pushing just the right amount of disbelief into it. Virgil cracks under the pressure and groans, and Deceit, staring at the ceiling, is sure he’s smiling.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“You aren’t there,” he admits. “I miss you guys. I miss you, <b>Dee</b>.”<br/></em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Deceit feels that happiness again, the one that swallows his chest and makes it hard to breathe and makes him want to cry all at once.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I miss you too,” he whispers. It’s hard to say outright, but Virgil gives him all the strength he needs.<br/></em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Virgil shifts suddenly, turning to look at Deceit. “<b>Why</b> don’t you come back with me?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“ … What?”<br/></em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“<b>Please</b>?” Virgil checked his watch and grimaced. “If we go now, we’ll have to <b>wake</b> them <b>up</b>, but they won’t mind. <b>First</b> we’ll wake <b>Roman</b>, he’s the most likely to let you stay, he definitely has a thing for you.”<br/></em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The happiness is gone, burst, leaving Deceit’s chest feeling almost deflated. It’s replaced with something cautious–dread? “Virgil, as much as I love that idea, I don’t believe it would be wise.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Virgil shrugs, but doesn’t look away. “If <b>now</b> isn’t a good time, we’ll wait for whenever’s good for <b>you</b>. <b>I</b> don’t mind. I <b>can’t</b> make you do anything you don’t want to.” He finally looks down, but in a searching manner, not as though he’s bored. “Gross. There’s a glue stick with bites in it. Did Remus <b>lose</b> a snack, or was that <b>you</b>?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Deceit laughs, glad for the subject change. “Could have been Roman.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Yeah, <b>and</b> Logan knows idioms. <b>Roman</b> only eats gourmet, so fat chance unless that’s Elmer’s.”<br/></em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“It might be, but unlikely.” Deceit sits up as well, peering down at what is certainly a glue stick. “He prefers the cheap ones from the dollar shop. Says they absorb the taste of the candles around them.”<br/></em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Virgil snorts again. “<b>Please</b>, we both know <b>it’s</b> just ‘cuz <b>Remus</b> is broke. <b>I can’t</b> even remember when the last time I saw him with a dollar was.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Quiet for a while. Deceit leans back a bit, letting his eyes slip closed.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“It’s hard, sometimes,” Virgil mumbles, “to <b>do</b> what they think I would. I like <b>this</b>, just sitting here <b>without</b> all the busyness of them. I like just sitting here with <b>you</b>.”<br/></em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“That makes two of us.”<br/></em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“You like sitting here with you, too?” Virgil laughs. Deceit ignores him, letting out a long, fake snore. Virgil throws a pillow at him.<br/></em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Like you think I’m gonna believe that? <b>Please</b>, I’m not five anymore. <b>Wake up</b> and stop being such a dad.”<br/></em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“You and I both know I’m the mom,” Deceit says, not opening his eyes. Actually, he did feel rather tired. It had been a while since he’d napped with Virgil.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“<b>Wake up, dork. Please wake up</b>.” Another pillow hits his face, and Deceit smirks and burrows deeper into the couch. Sleep was weighing down his body. As much as he loved doing nothing with Virgil, he was comfortable enough to slip into a dreamless rest.<br/></em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“See you tomorrow, Virgil.”<br/></em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Whatever. <b>Please don’t</b>, like, go comatose or <b>die</b> or something. Like don’t forget to <b>wake up</b> tomorrow, <b>please</b>.” Virgil is still laughing, but there’s real concern in his voice. Sweet little Anxiety.<br/></em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Always so worried about me.”<br/></em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Yeah. Goodnight, <b>I</b> guess. <b>Love ya</b>,<b> Dee</b>.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Goodnight.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Dee had missed this. Doing nothing. It was good. It was nice. It was everything he wanted.</em>
</p>
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